I say confession because my love of power-lifting isn't something I really express to people outside of those who I train with in the gym. Burkey knows. Tracy is finding out. My girlfriend & a few others may have a pretty good idea. It's not something I feel comfortable showing to many people, people who don't get it. People who have never had there hands wrapped around that bar and pushed themselves to the limits few will. I fucking love it. I love everything about it. I lay in bed at night and wonder what my PR's are now. how the training I've been doing with Tracy (who is a pro power-lifter) is preparing me for the next phase of my journey, and replay the days workout in my head... what could I have done differently? Could I have pushed myself more? Did I work smart? Am I satisfied with where I'm at? What was my diet like today? I touch the calluses on my hands in admiration, a sense of pride. I admire hard work. I admire people who don't give up even when it hurts, when they want to, when everyone around them is telling them it's okay to give up. I love training. I've been training for almost 4 years now, for nothing more than the ability to do a pull up, loose some weight, be able to pull myself over the walls at the warrior dash. I've trained really hard for seemingly small things, lol. When I'm entirely honest with myself, let's face it... I just like to train. Any excuse will do for me, I like to life heavy things, I like to be strong. I love to push myself to the limits. It strengthens me on all levels. It grounds me and teaches me about life, about how I react to life. It. Makes. Me. Happy.
Power-lifting just seems like the next logical step...
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